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<title>soft as the brush across my cheekbones by thistle_pog (orphan_account)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628192">soft as the brush across my cheekbones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thistle_pog'>thistle_pog (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Makeover, Makeup, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:47:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>527</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thistle_pog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ingrid, make-up and gay thoughts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Mercedes von Martritz, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Mercedes von Martritz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>soft as the brush across my cheekbones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sometimes you're gay and you have to write gay shit. also its probably 100% clear that i don't wear make-up but i support those who do y'all are so powerful i could never.</p><p> </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m not… used to this,” Ingrid says like a prayer, watching from the corner of her eye as Mercedes and Annette flit about, pulling small pots and tubes and brushes from the mirrored nightstand. They’ve got her propped up sitting pretty in a chair in the middle of the room, stripped down to her under-camisole and leggings, hair loose and tickling her cheeks, her shoulders, the nape of her neck.</p><p>“We know,” Mercedes replies, dreamy, airy, voice as soft as a sigh, “Don’t worry, Ingrid, we’ll take good care of you.”</p><p>Annette nods frantically, orange pigtails bobbing with each fervent bob of her head. Ingrid, blushing pink to the tips of her ears, wonders if the wording of that sentence is supposed to be as scandalous as it sounds.</p><p>They come at her, brandishing brushes with creams and powders, soft and subtle. Annette grasps at her chin with warms fingers from the strain of an axe and the flash of fire and pulls her face towards her, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration as she swipes soft solution to spread across her face and down her neck, damp bristles tickling her collarbones. Mercedes presses pigment into the corner of her eyes with her finger first before blending it out with the timid pulls of a sponge, dusting powder over her cheekbones with the silky touch of an angel.</p><p>“Close your eyes,” Mercedes murmurs in her ear, warm breath ghosting against the sensitive skin. Breath shuddering, Ingrid obliges, hands held delicately in her lap, shadows shifting in front of her lids while something strange pulls at her eyelashes, coating them with tacky liquid. When the sensation stops she blinks her eyes open, distracted by the new heaviness that sits there. Annette grins at her.</p><p>“Now for the last thing - your lipstick!” She says. Her breath seems to mingle with Ignrid’s own as she tilts her head up, staring into dark blue irises. For a second Ingrid thinks Annette’s going to kiss her, transfer the colour on her own lips straight to hers with the soft press of her mouth, but then she feels the slow stroke of something matte across her bottom lip.</p><p>When she pulls back, Mercedes tuts.</p><p>“Oh, Annie, you smudged it.” She pulls her thumb across the side of her mouth, rubbing the stain away. Ingrid’s brain short-circuited.</p><p>They turn her around to face the mirror, a hand on each of her shoulders.</p><p>“Do you like it?” They ask.</p><p>Ingrid looks at her reflection, cheeks pinkened by powder, lips flushed with lipstick, soft brown eyelids with eyelashes long and dark. She looks… different. Foreign in her own skin. But it’s not <em> bad </em>. In fact, she finds herself preening a bit under their gaze, turning her head to admire the shine on the plains of her cheekbones, the smoothness of her skin, the fullness of her mouth.</p><p>It’s not something that she’d want done to her all of the time, but she finds that she wouldn’t mind having it done more often.</p><p>She looks up at her two companions, both of them smiling down at her, pleased.</p><p>“Yes,” she replies, smiling back, “Yes, I do.”</p>
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